The Hardy's
by Geek for God
Summary: This is a parody. A completely dumb, idiotic parody. So now you can't say I didn't warn you.


**This is a really dumb story that I came up with when I was sitting in bed, bored out of my mind. So. As it says in the description, it IS a parody, with a slight, somewhat confusing crossover. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Except for the the random dude with a megaphone. He's mine.**

ONCE UPON A TIME . . . .

There were two brothers – Frank, who was eighteen, and Joe, who was seventeen. They hated each other a LOT. So when their father, Fenton Hardy, was about to pass away, he told his sons, "Whoever finds all the clues and uses them to decipher the message in them will receive my inheritance." The two brothers listened eagerly as he continued. "The first clue is hidden in Paris."

The brothers dashed outside.

Joe puffed his chest out proudly. "I'm gonna beat you, 'cause I'm faster, smarter, and cooler than you."

Frank sneered. "Yeah, maybe in your DREAMS."

Joe ignored his older brother and quickly got on his laptop, promptly ordering two tickets to Paris, France.

Frank glanced at his brother, surprised. "You're getting a ticket for me?"

Joe shook his head. "No way. I'm taking my girlfriend, Iola Morton, with me. She's always wanted to go to Paris."

Frank frowned. "Fine. Then I'm taking MY girlfriend with me." He stuck out his tongue.

Soon, both boys had their dates with them, and a ticket in their hand. They glared at each other, smoke coming out of their ears. Just then, though, a pretty redhead walked by, smiling at them. "Hey Frank, hey Joe." Her hair had been brushed for such an agonizingly long time that it tingled with static.

Frank was drooling as he smiled at her. "Hi, Nancy."

His girlfriend, Callie Shaw, smacked him on the arm. "Excuse me?" she asked in an extremely high-pitched voice.

Frank ignored her and stared at Nancy Drew. "I have an extra ticket to Paris, France. You wanna come?"

Callie gasped, shocked, before slapping him and turning on her heel. "Where are you going?" Iola asked her boyfriend's brother's girlfriend.

Callie huffed. "I'm going to the BATHROOM. And no one better follow me!"

"Don't worry, we won't," Joe snickered, stopping when Iola hit him.

Soon all four of them were on the plane, (Nancy taking Callie's place) bound for Paris, the city of love.

Frank whispered to Nancy, not wanting Joe to hear, "I think I know where the clue is. Paris is obviously known for the Eiffel Tower, so the clue must be up there."

Nancy smiled and rested her head on Frank's shoulder. "You're soooo smart," she giggled. "And handsome and serious and-"

"Blind," Joe said loudly. "Why else would he like you?"

Nancy's pale face turned hard, and her eyes flashed from light brown to red. "How dare you?" she hissed, long fangs appearing just under her top lip.

Iola rolled her eyes. "Great," she muttered. "Another vampire. Lord knows we don't have enough of _those._"

Nancy roared and lunged for Joe, who easily sidestepped into the aisle of the plane. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Hey, Nancy, aren't you guys supposed to have, like, super powers or something?" Joe mocked, laughing loudly.

Suddenly there was a bright flash of light, and when the spots disappeared from Joe's eyes, he realized he was wearing a pink, frilly dress with heart-shaped bows in his hair. "Oh. My. Gosh." he said, unable to come up with a better sentence.

Nancy smirked, folding her arms across her chest. "That's right. Don't mess with me."

Then she sat back in her seat, caressing Frank's arm while Joe screamed in agony. "TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF! I'M SORRY I EVER OFFENDED YOU! JUST PLEASE TAKE IT OFF!"

Nancy ignored the boy and whispered to Frank, "You know, your blood smells so good. The only thing I can think about is sucking you dry until you're nothing more than a bag of fleshy skin and pink bones, but I'm not gonna do that." She smiled adoringly at him. "Probably."

When the plane finally touched down in France, Joe was still dressed up. He muttered angrily to himself as he watched Nancy and Frank walk away. "I'll show them," he said to Iola, who was slyly taking out her phone and snapping pictures of the furious, pink-clad Joe. "We're gonna go to the Eiffel Tower. What, does he think I'm deaf or something? Of COURSE I heard that!"

He stormed off toward the Eiffel Tower, the bows in his hair bobbing with every step he took. Iola laughed quietly and followed him.

-L-I-N-E-

Frank walked slowly up the stairs, Nancy's arm linked in his. Nancy smiled at him, her teeth glinting in the moonlight. Then, still staring at him, her left arm suddenly snatched a squirrel that happened to be near them. She snapped its neck with her fingers before shoving the thing in her mouth.

Frank's eyes glistened with moisture. "You are so hot when you do that," he whispered to her.

Nancy beamed, blood smeared around her mouth. "I know I am."

They finally reached the top of the Eiffel Tower, where they peered over the edge to gaze at the small, ant-sized people on the ground. Frank wrapped Nancy in his arms as they stood at the edge with Nancy's hands clasped around his. She broke a couple of his bones, but he was okay with that.

"Ah-ha!" Someone suddenly cried out from behind them.

Frank whipped around to see his brother standing behind them. "I see you haven't found any new clothes, Joe."

Joe scowled even as he reached down to straighten his dress. "Shut up."

The boys continued bickering with no intention of stopping anytime soon.

Iola, who had walked in with Joe, sighed heavily. Suddenly a small piece of paper caught her eye. It fluttered in the powerful wind, its edge caught on one of the beams. Giving a sideways glance in both directions, she casually moved toward the suspicious-looking paper. As she got closer, she realized that it was a list of items. The first word was _Bananas, _then _Yogurt, _and then _Gunpowder._ She picked it up, calling out, "Oh boys!"

They ignored her.

"Dummies," Iola muttered. Then, in a louder voice, "Hey, look, a clue!"

That got their attention. "Where?" Joe questioned.

In response, Iola held up the piece of paper.

Both boys rushed toward her, but Frank got there first. He ripped it from Iola's hand with his pinkie and thumb, because the rest of his fingers had been crushed. Before he had long to study it, however, Joe grabbed the corner of it.

"Back off!" Frank snarled. "Finders keepers!"

Joe shrugged. "Losers weepers!"

Iola tuned out the familiar sound of arguing and turned to Nancy. "Hey, Nancy, you wanna head downstairs and get something to eat?"

Nancy narrowed her eyes. "You just want me to leave Frank so you can have him all to yourself! Well, it's not happening!"

Iola held her hands up, slowly backing away. "All right, you three have fun." Then she bolted down the stairs.

The remaining three didn't even notice her absence, too busy studying the piece of paper. Or, in Nancy's case, trying to restrain herself from killing Frank and eating his blood. She was winning the mental battle . . . until Joe yanked the paper away from Frank, creating a small paper cut on his thumb.

"OW!" Frank howled in pain. "You JERK! That HURT!"

Joe just stuck his tongue out of his lipstick-covered mouth. Then suddenly he froze as his eyes focused on something behind his brother. "Uh, Frank-"

Unfortunately (depending on whose side you're on), Frank, nursing his cut, ignored Joe and didn't turn to see Nancy slowly rise up behind him, her eyes blood-red, her fingers reaching toward his throat, a greedy, psychotic smile on her lips.

"No, Frank, I _really_ think you should turn around."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll do that so you can take off with the clue." He snorted. "I'm not _that _stupid."

Joe eyed the creature coming agonizingly closer to Frank's bare throat. "I beg to differ. Especially seeing as you chose _that_ as your date."

Frank was about to make a snotty response when a poodle down on the sidewalk started barking frantically.

Nancy stopped, her insanely long fingernails a millimeter from Frank's throat, her eyes widened in fear. She stumbled backwards, her hands covering her face in terror. "No . . . I can smell it! It's after me! Nooooo!" Then she jumped off the Eiffel Tower. A few seconds later, there was the sound of an explosion, and a blast of heat surged past the two Hardy's. Raining car pieces fell from the sky, littering the top of the tall building.

Frank, who had turned around at Nancy's shouts, gasped in horror. "NO! MY BABY! THE ONE THING I LIVED FOR!" He collapsed into a fetal position on the ground, sobs wracking his body.

Joe stepped over the shaking body of his brother with his pink high heels and peered over the edge of the building. A body with reddish blonde hair lay on top of what used to be a car but was now a flaming piece of metal. Then the body got up, patted out the little flames on its skirt, and started walking away.

"Is . . . is she . . . _dead_?" Frank asked in a hoarse whisper.

Joe watched Nancy hijack a car and drive away. "As a doornail," he replied cheerily.

Suddenly some random dude with a megaphone announced loudly, "We don't how this happened, folks, but apparently Iola Morton was driving the car at the time of its demise. And she's probably dead, but we're gonna mess with your minds and say that there was a small chance that she got away. No hope like false hope, you know what I'm saying?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "Great. Now what am I going to tell Chet? 'Hey Chet, we had a great time in Paris. Where's your sister? Oh, well, she died. Yeah. Frank's girlfriend jumped off the Eiffel Tower and killed her. So yes, this was all of Frank's fault.'"

Frank sniffed noisily and sat up. "How in the world is Iola's death MY fault?"

Joe shrugged. "Dude. You're the one – ahem – you WERE the one with the vampire girlfriend."

Frank burst into more tears. "You're right! It is my fault! It's all my fault! I killed Nancy, and by doing so I killed Iola!"

"Glad you can see it my way, buddy," Joe said, patting Frank on the head with his manicured fingernails.

"Uh . . . Frank?" someone asked tentatively.

The two boys whipped around to see . . . Callie.

"Oh, Callie, not now," Frank moaned, tears still running down his face. "I just lost the love of my life! Can't you leave me in peace?"

Callie looked sad. "But . . . I wanted to tell you -"

"Tell me what?" Frank snapped. "What could POSSIBLY be so important you have to interrupt my MOPING time?"

"I'm a werewolf," she said happily.

Frank jumped up, a huge smile on his face. "Oh, baby, I am YOURS!" He rushed over and gave her a hug.

Callie rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. Then she frowned and pulled away from him. "Joe, why are you wearing a pink dress?"

Joe's cheeks turned as red as his clothing. "IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" Then he dashed down the stairs, the piece of paper still clutched in his hand.

"Hey!" Frank yelped, immediately tearing after his younger brother. "Gimme that!"

"Never!" came an answering shout followed by maniacal laughter.

Callie just shook her head before transforming into a poodle and racing after the two.

-L-I-N-E-

Fenton Hardy leaned back in his bed, a cup of steaming apple cider in his hands. Laura, his wife, sat in a chair near the bed. Fenton lifted the cup to his lips, about to take a sip, but then he frowned and set it back down on his lap.

"What is it, honey?" Laura asked worriedly.

Fenton stared at the corner of his blanket. "Oh, it's probably nothing . . . but you know how I told the boys to look for clues to my inheritance?"

His wife nodded.

"Well, I never got to finish telling them what to do."

Laura pursed her tiny lips. "What did you not tell them?"

Fenton sighed. "I told them to look in Paris."

"Isn't that where the clues are?" Laura questioned, her eyes puzzled.

Fenton waved his hand. "Yes, yes, but I never told them what state." His gaze wandered toward the window. "I just hope they realize I meant Paris, Texas."

The End

Epilogue:

A dark-haired man in a black trench coat sprinted up the stairs of the Eiffel Tower. He finally reached the top, barely out of breath. He strode over to one of the many beams, his scarf flapping in the wind. He inspected the beam, a frown creasing his face. "I left it right here," he murmured to himself as a strong breeze rustled his curly hair.

A blonde man appeared at the top of the stairs, his hands on his knees. "You . . . always . . . run . . . like there's . . . a thug . . . chasing you."

"That's because there usually is," the taller, dark-haired man said distractedly. He rubbed a gloved finger along the beam then peered at it. "Come here," he said, waving the blond man over.

The shorter man jogged toward the other man, still slightly out of breath. "What is it?"

"Look here," the man in the trench coat said, pointing at the beam.

The blond man rolled his eyes. "I _told_ you not to put your shopping lists in such strange places."

The dark-haired man ignored him as he stared hard at his surroundings. Then, "A couple of teenagers were up here, two boys and two girls. Although . . . one of the boys may have been a cross-dresser. One of the girls left early, and the other . . . ." he abruptly got up and walked toward the edge of the building, then looked down. "Oh."

The blond man followed the taller man to the edge. "What?" Then he looked down as well. "Oh."

Police tape surrounded a large, blackened area on the pavement below. People on the street would stop and inspect the crime scene, then continue walking, casting several curious glances back at it.

The shorter man furrowed his brow. "Maybe she was really sick of her boyfriend and, uh, jumped off."

The curly-haired man looked at his friend. "And?"

The blonde man had a thoughtful expression on his face. "And . . . and she had a bomb strapped to her chest-"

The other man rolled his eyes. "How very cliché of you."

The blonde man threw his hands up in the air. "Well, then, what do _you_ think happened?"

The man in the trench coat turned away from the other man and looked down at the crime scene. "I don't _think_, I _know._"

The shorter man opened his mouth to say something, but the dark-haired man began speaking at a rapid pace. "She obviously was in distress about something, maybe something her boyfriend said, and so she ran to the edge and simply jumped off. Maybe she had a mental illness. However, she probably wasn't anticipating the car that was just turning the corner. She lands on it, it explodes, the driver inside dies and -" he stopped.

"And?" the other man asked.

The curly-haired man frowned and turned away from the scene. He started walking toward the stairs, with the blonde man beside him. "And?" he asked again.

Sherlock Holmes snorted. "I don't waste my time with vampires. They can have my shopping list for all I care."

John Watson acted as if he had run into a brick wall. Then he ran to catch up with Sherlock. "Did it ever occur to you that I should've been told that vampires EXIST?"

The two men turned the corner of the stairs. Then the detective's reply drifted into the night air. "Not really, no."

The End. Again.


End file.
